ncombe still loitered at the open window.

"And her name is Nina Perceval," he said abruptly, shooting out the
words as though not quite certain of their reception.

The dumb-bells crashed to the ground. Hone wheeled round. For a single
instant the Irish eyes flamed fiercely; but the next he had himself in
hand.

"A pretty little plan, by the powers!" he said, forcing himself to speak
lightly. "But it won't work, my lad. I'm deeply grateful all the same."

"Rats, man! She is sure to marry again." Duncombe spoke with deliberate
carelessness. He would not seem to be aware of that which his friend had
suppressed.

"That may be," Hone said very quietly. "But she will never marry me.
And--faith, I'll be honest with you, Teddy, for the whole truth told is
better than a half-truth guessed--for her sake I shall never marry
another woman."

He spoke with absolute steadiness, and he looked Duncombe full in the
eyes as he said it.

A brief silence followed his statement; then impulsively Duncombe thrust
out his hand.

"Hone, old chap, forgive me! I'm a headlong, blundering jackass!"

"And the best friend a man ever had," said Hone gently. "It's an old
story, and I can't tell you all. It was just a game, you know; it began
in jest, but it ended in grim earnest, as some games do. It happened
that time we travelled out together, eight years ago. I was supposed to
be looking after her; but, faith, the monkey tricked me! I was a fool,
you see, Teddy." A faint smile crossed his face. "And she gave me an
elderly spinster to dance attendance upon while she amused herself. She
was only a child in those days. She couldn't have been twenty. I used to
call her the Princess, and I was St. Patrick to her. But the mischief
was that I thought her free, and--I made love to her." He paused a
moment. "Perhaps it's hardly fair to tell you this. But you're in love
yourself; you'll understand."

"I understand," Duncombe said.

"And she was such an innocent," Hone went on softly. "Faith, what an
innocent she was! Till one day she saw what had happened to me, and it
nearly broke her heart. For she hadn't meant any harm, bless her. It was
all a game with her, and she thought I was playing, too, till--till she
saw otherwise. Well, it all came to an end at last, and to save her from
grieving I pretended that I had known all along. I pretended that I had
trifled with her from start to finish. She didn't believe me at first,
but I made her--Heav